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“As W. C. Fields once memorably said, ‘Tell him to go fuck himself.’ I’m sorry I don’t do a better W. C. Fields impression.”
“Who’s W. C. Fields?”
“You’re old enough to know. Eddie is going to ask you how to get himself a lawyer.”
“Who should I recommend?”
“First of all, don’t recommend Herbie Fisher. He’d never forgive either of us—and he might actually get Eddie off. And if he does, the phone will never stop ringing.”
“Got it, I think. Any lawyer you really hate?”
“Not enough to sic Eddie Jr. on him.” He thought for a moment. “Tiffany Baldwin.”
“She’s the federal DA for the Southern District, isn’t she?”
“I heard she either retired or got booted. Anyway, she and Eddie Jr. deserve each other.”
“Okay, I’ll give Eddie her number.”
“After that, come in and let’s talk.”
Ten minutes passed before Joan appeared.
“Have a seat,” Stone said.
“What did I do wrong?” she asked, alarmed.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Stone said. “I just think you need to sit down to hear this.”
Joan perched nervously on the edge of a chair. “What?”
“You know that Annetta is dead, right? Murdered?”
“Yes, I was here when you heard, but you know I didn’t do it.”
“I know that, and nobody suspects you of it.”
“You mean I can get away with it?”
“What?”
“Sorry, just kidding. What else?”
“First, some questions. Did Annetta have any relatives? Brothers, sisters, cousins, distant cousins?”
“Nary a one. She’s alone in the world.”
“Except for you.”
Joan thought about that.
“Your mother is deceased, right?”
“Right.”
“Then you are Annetta’s only heir.”
“Well, she did leave me one hundred thousand dollars in her will.”
